


Stick

by givemesomewings



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Includes possible suicide ideation, M/M, Not sure if it’s too bad but I figured I should tag just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemesomewings/pseuds/givemesomewings
Summary: Matt just hoped Frank wouldn’t take it too hard. He’d been through so much already. It hurt more than anything to know that he wasn’t strong enough to shield him from this pain. To fight for Frank.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88
Collections: Fratt Week





	Stick

**Author's Note:**

> BLACK LIVES MATTER. Hopefully these words don’t feel out of place or uncomfortable to see for anyone. But as a black person and just as a human being, I really need this to be said as loudly and as often as possible. In any and all spaces that I inhabit.
> 
> This site and all of these amazing fics have always been a refuge for me. Consuming art is a great escape for when reality is too troubling, but I don’t want to escape anymore. I couldn’t even if I did. MY LIFE MATTERS.
> 
> I know most people are here just to read and enjoy Fratt Week, but the past 7 Days have been some of the most important and eye opening of my life. 
> 
> The fight for my rights and the fact that many people would rather see me dead more than anything else has been at the forefront of every aspect of my existence. It’s tough and it’s difficult, but that’s my reality.
> 
> I just wanted to set a precedent for any and all interactions I may have with anyone on this site or elsewhere, that again, BLACK LIVES MATTER. That cannot be said enough, as just acknowledging this fact is the least we can do in this fight. If you don’t agree with this or feel like this isn’t the “place” for this conversation to be had, please do not interact with me or my work from this point on. 
> 
> *
> 
> I made it! Time got away from me but I was able to post my second and final entry for Fratt Week at the 11th hour.
> 
> This fic was written for the prompt “Stick” and loosely inspired by the song “September” by Ayoni. It is currently unbeta’d, which may be evident by the fact that it was posted on Amnesty Day at 11:59 PM. Bare with me.
> 
> *
> 
> This fic is set in an alternate version of The Punisher S1. Matt is helping Frank on his hunt for Agent Rawlins when he’s confronted by Stick.

“How many times do we have to have this same fight?” Matt panted before he spat blood at the ground. Right next to Stick’s feet.

He immediately felt a booted foot slam against his chest, shoving his back against the wall of an apartment building they had been fighting behind. The kick was followed by a blade being nestled snugly underneath his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. This’ll be the last time,” Stick said, ever so calmly.

They breathed heavily in each other’s faces. “Listen to me, Matty. Me and the others are leaving tonight. Come with us,” he said almost desperately. His tone miles away from the smugness it held moments ago. It was as close as Stick had ever gotten to pleading. “You could save the world. This God awful city included.”

‘Save the city,’ Matt repeated, the words rolling off of his tongue sarcastically. “That’s a funny way to say, ‘kill millions of people.’

“Geez, kid,” Stick started tiredly.

“I won’t kill, Stick. Not for you and especially not for some stupid war you’ve conjured up in your senile old mind-“

The old man interrupted Matt by kneeing him in the stomach, more out of frustration than of anger or necessity. The blow came fast as lightning and heavy as a bag of bricks. Stick allowed him to fall to his knees while keeping the blade steady against his throat.

“Conned innocent people,” he breathed. “Kids into joining you,” Matt yelled hoarsely. Stick pressed the blade harder against his neck, forcing him to straighten up.

“You were the best fighter I’d ever seen, Matthew. Showed more heart and promise than anyone I’d ever trained. And you know I’m not lying about that,” he paused, giving Matt ample time to listen for his heartbeat in his weakened state. It was all Matt could do to try and hear the faint pumping in Stick’s chest. He had beaten Matt so badly, his ears were ringing so loudly that he was already straining just to keep up with the flow of the conversation.

“But I can’t keep letting you get in my way. I want you by my side, Matty. But you keep going to these great lengths to keep me from doing what I need to do, and I’ve let it go on long enough. I’ve got partners who have questioned why I can’t always get done what I need to get done. They would’ve come and handled you tonight if I hadn’t promised them that I’d end it for good this time.”

“Please,” Matt spat. “I’m not scared of your damn shuffle board partners, Stick.” He tried his best not to fall over onto the katana in front of him.

“Funny,” Stick actually chuckled. “But you should be. I got the drop on you pretty quick, and I was going easy on you. They wouldn’t have.”

They sat in tense silence for a few seconds before Stick groaned in exasperation. This was harder for him than he let on.

“What have you got to lose any way? You’ve been tracking that one-eyed geezer for a good 2 months. And I’m sure you haven’t spoken to those ‘friends’ of yours that were oh-so-important to you in at least that long,” he wagered. “Just been running around with that psycho-hipster. Who’s supposed to be dead by the way.”

Matt was sure Stick could hear his heart beat pick up at the mention of Frank. It wasn’t too surprising that he had seen Matt running around with the infamous Punisher, especially since he’d obviously been tailing him. What surprised Matt was how long he’d gone without so much as even thinking that anyone was following his movements.

Stick definitely shouldn’t know that they were investigating Rawlins. Or how deep he was into said investigation. Matt wondered what else he knew about his and Frank’s partnership.

“Didn’t know I knew all that, huh? Well, I do my research, too,” he said. “You’ll follow that crazy hippie across 3 different states, but you can’t help out your old man, Stick?”

Matt might have detected a note of bitterness in his voice. It surprised him a little, but he figured out a while ago that Stick must care for him in his own twisted way. At least a little. “What? I’m not the right kind of mass murderer for you?”

“I guess not,” Matt finally managed. He was growing less angry by the second and all the more deflated. He meant it when he said that he couldn’t keep having this conversation over and over again. And the thought that Stick actually believed he could hold a candle to Frank was laughable more than anything else. “You’re nothing like him.”

“Oh, really? What’s so special about this ‘Punisher?’

Matt carefully said nothing. He didn’t know if he should let on how close he and Frank had gotten. He wasn’t even sure how much it would matter at this point.

There was no use in trying to wrestle the sword from Stick’s hands. He was way too tired and disoriented to put up any real fight. Yeah, this was it. No point in lying now that it looked like Stick actually planned to kill him. Maybe being this close to death gave him the courage to say what he had been too afraid to say to Frank. Or maybe it made him just stupid enough not to consider the consequences.

“I love him.”

“Ugh,” Stick spat, genuine disgust in his voice.

Matt might have laughed at the response, in any other situation. Maybe he would have now, if he had the strength.

“Kid, you always did know how to pick ‘em,” he sighed. “Well, doesn’t matter now. I’ve got a mission to complete, same as you. I’m just sorry it had to end this way.”

“No, you’re not, Stick.” Matt wouldn’t even give him that. That last shred of humanity that Stick never cared to ask for.

“I am, Matty. Probably more than you’ll ever know,” he said sadly. “I’ll make it quick.”

Matt closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. He allowed himself one moment of peace before the blade sliced open his skin. It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel... okay. Not happy, not even anything close to it. It was more like relief. He was just so tired. Exhausted.

And he knew that people would be hurt. The congregation, clients of his who had become like family to him. And then there was his actual family. Father Lantom. Foggy. Karen.

He just hoped Frank wouldn’t take it too hard. He’d been through so much already. It hurt more than anything to know that he wasn’t strong enough to stay alive and shield him from this pain. To fight for Frank.

Just as the sword was about to cut him, a bullet flew through the air. It sliced right through Stick’s shoulder.

The old man screamed as he pitched forward, stumbling away from him for half a second. He quickly righted himself, moving behind Matt and using him as a human shield.

“It’s your man. Isn’t it,” Stick said, already knowing the answer.

“Let him go, asshole,” Frank said as if on cue. He appeared calm as ever as he slowly made his way around the corner of a random building, but Matt knew better. Frank was scared, even if he wouldn’t admit that to himself.

“I didn’t even hear you coming,” Stick muttered quietly. Low enough for Frank not to hear, but loud enough to bring a small smile to Matt’s face.

“Who just shot me?” he asked at normal volume.

“A friend,” Frank said. “Last chance to walk away, Grandpa.”

“And what makes you think you could fire off a shot before I can slice your boyfriend’s throat?”

“Because, you piece of shit-“

Matt slammed his head backward, effectively ending whatever pissing contest the men were about to have. The blow forced Stick to cry out and loosen his grip just enough for Matt to slip from his grasp and land in a heap on the ground.

With Matt out of the way, he fired off several shots at Stick. More bullets fired from what Matt guessed was a small drone in the sky, probably where the first shot had come from.

They were still no match for Stick, who narrowly disappeared from the spray of gunfire.

“Shit! How the hell did he run away so fast? Weren’t we both shooting at him?” Micro nearly yelled into Frank’s earpiece, loud enough that even Matt could pick up what he said.

Frank ignored him, dropping down next to Matt’s body and gathering him in his lap. Matt was fading fast from consciousness, but he used his last bit of strength to reach up and rest his hand against Frank’s face.

“Good job, Castle. He didn’t even hear you coming.”

“Well, at least one of us got the job done,” Frank half-joked. “Can’t even send you on a simple reconnaissance mission, Red?”

Frank looked down at Matt, hastily checking him over for any injuries. Once he was finished, the comm in his ear sparked back to life.

”How’s he looking, Frank?” he asked. “The camera on this drone is good. But its not _that_ good, so I can’t really see much in terms of his injuries. The gun seems to work great, though-“

“Shut the fuck up, Lieberman.”

“You got it,” he responded immediately. “But you might wanna hurry up. Cops’ll be there any minute.”

Frank rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. He just looked back down at Matt. “You good to be moved, Red?”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Let me just-“

He started trying to get up on his own but Frank grunted in annoyance and hefted him up.

“Shut up, Red,” he mumbled as he made his way back to the van. Matt didn’t even bother to argue. He just held on as Frank carried him to safety.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, i hope i did these characters justice. lmk if you enjoyed it! 
> 
> also, i suggest you listen to “september.” i originally tried to capture the tone of the song within the fic but i kind of gave up on it as the writing process continued. still, the song is amazing.
> 
> hmu at @maniskordaze on twitter and tumblr!


End file.
